The Art Of Revenge (Thalia Nash and Brandon)

64

Brandon’s Pov Content is © by NôvelDrama.Org.

I kept dialing Nestor’s number, but it went unanswered; the idiot had genuinely abandoned me to the

obnoxious hormonal Thalia. She was all grown up and ready to take on anyone, or so she believed, or

was it the hormones at work.

But the world outside was a dangerous place, and she was only secure because I was shielding her,

which was why I needed to know everything so I could protect her, but she was too stup*d to know that.

She moved over to her closet and began changing in front of my eyes. The old Thalia wouldn’t have

done that, she was too shy, and I missed her, it was always cute when she behaved like a virgin.

I was tired of warning the one in front of me that her sudden baldness was going to smack her in the

face but my warning fell on deaf ears.

I tried calling Nestor again but received no response, another m*ron, I grumbled.

She strolled to the kitchen after she was done with her dressing. I wasn’t sure if she was playing quietly

with me or not, but we were both acting as if we were an elderly married couple tired of our ineffective

marriage.

I knew she had a legitimate reason for keeping whatever she was hiding from me hidden, and I knew it

wasn’t meant to harm me, but not knowing was killing me. I was Brandon Fraser, and I was meant to

be aware of everything that was going on in the lives of those around me.

All of my attempts to find out were unsuccessful; she was so excellent at concealing it that I’m guessing

she picked up on my tactics and used them against me. But I was intrigued by how she managed to

persuade Nestor to join in. I always came first to Nestor, never did he ever put a girl before me.

To be honest, they made an excellent team, which is why it was so tough for me to figure out what they

were up to. Nestor was well-versed in my working methods, and she was well-versed in my demeanor.

Being left at the front door was a little depressing. Was it unreasonable of me to expect them to include

me in their secret group? Or maybe everything would have been avoided if I asked politely, I reasoned.

As the door opened, she inquired, “You didn’t cook anything?”

I chuckled and looked away.

“It’s fine, I will cook,”

“Thalia?” I called out. She came to a halt and turned. “Could you tell me what you’re up to behind my

back?” I tried another approach, maybe asking kindly was going to work.

She chuckled, “I’m not doing anything that would make you hate me but all I’m asking you is to trust me

and have patience,” she replied and disappeared through the kitchen door.

I was left sitting on the bed blank, maybe It was time to accept my fate; in fact, it was probably a waste

of time to find out what the hell she was up to. I looked down at my tablet and noticed the Nelsons in

their kitchen having a meeting.

I would have turned up the volume on any given day, but I felt like it was none of my business. Yes,

they were probably putting the pieces together and intending to pursue Thalia, but that was none of my

concern; she was a grown-up girl now, I reasoned as I tossed the phone away and laid down to take a

nap.

On second thought, unlike her, I was concerned and planned to watch a recorded version after my nap.

After some minutes, she entered with a plate of food and took a seat on the edge of my bed. I gave the

impression of being uninterested and covered myself.

She said, “I made your favorite.”

“I’m not hungry,” I replied.

“Brandon, you’re acting like a teen again; open your mouth or I’ll bind you and feed you falsely,” she

explained. I just averted my gaze and picked up my tablet, focusing on the Nelsons’ plotting.

Josh looked nonchalant as if he was resenting the years he spent demeaning Thalia only for her to rise

up again.

“Brandon!” Thalia screamed.

“Victor Nelson is scheduled to give you a visit at the office tomorrow,” I spoke rapidly. She froze for a

brief moment before quickly presenting herself. “I can deal with Victor Nelson,” she responded and

attempted to place food in my mouth, but I resisted.

“Victor is the mastermind, and he has no feelings for you; he will eliminate you,” I cautioned her.

She continued, “I thought you didn’t care,” as she went closer, attempting to force the meal into my

mouth. I pushed her without thinking, and she nearly fell to the floor, but I immediately grabbed onto her

shirt.

She quickly held onto the bed for balance while the food on the platter tumbled to the ground. She

swiftly positioned herself and clenched her fists around her chest. She would have landed head down if

it hadn’t been for my grip.

I inhaled deeply, my heart racing. I could see the terror in her eyes when she lifted her eyes to meet

mine.

She slid off the bed and began walking away gently without saying a word.

“Thalia,” I sobbed.

“I need to get some fresh air,” she replied and stepped out of the house. I felt like a fool, and because

of my stubbornness, I almost hurt her and her unborn child. There was no way she could forgive me, in

fact, no pregnant woman could forgive me because I was a danger to her and the baby.

I tried to get off the bed but I couldn’t feel my legs or my body from the waist to the toes. I hurriedly

removed the covers, and it was then I noticed where the weird stench was coming from and knew I had

defecated and urinated on myself.

I froze, unsure if it was my sphincter muscles or the nerves to my brain that were malfunctioning, but

the knowledge that I needed to defecate or urinate did not reach my brain. The humiliation and the

shame.

My body had started giving up on me without warning, so I just held my head in shame. It was

humiliating, and I couldn’t move. I was fine all morning, but I was well aware that my condition had

moods. One minute I was fine and down the next.

It was pointless to sit there and feel sorry for myself. I wasn’t going to let Thalia see me like that. It was

the most embarrassing experience of my life. It was one thing to puke and another to urinate but not to

defecate.

I tried to move again, but everything became numb, including my chest. I was forced to lay on the bed.

Was I about to go into a coma? “No no,” I screamed to myself as I tried to pick up my tablet.

I needed Nestor to come and save me from my humiliation, but I remembered the idiot was not

answering my calls. Maggie, I thought to myself. I was going to contact Maggie, but the useless tablet

felt like a twenty-five-kilogram slab of ice.

It was not going to work; I was simply making my hands numb, so I came to a halt and attempted to

begin cleaning myself, but I was so exhausted I could barely manage to remove my shirt, and any

remaining energy vanished.

I just slept in my feces and urine, wallowing in my misery. Perhaps it was finally time for me to meet my

maker. I was finally going to die, and while I would have preferred to do it on the terms I had set, I was

going to embrace it.

I read a lot about dying, and I noticed that people frequently sh*t themselves before they died, suppose

that was the case; it was natural, and I was going through a regular procedure; nonetheless, it was

disappointing that I didn’t get to say goodbye to Thalia. The worst aspect was that the last recollection

she had of me was of a failed assassination attempt.

I just lay there waiting for whatever was supposed to happen; I was never religious, so I didn’t know if

the angel of death would arrive from the corner of the room or if a white light would appear for me to

follow, but I was ready for anything.

I waited and waited, but nothing happened; my hands had also gone numb, and the only thing that

moved was my head.

I could only guess that an hour, if not more, had passed. My neck hurt from sleeping in the same

posture, and the stink of my own filth was continuously knocking me down. I couldn’t even wish it on

my worst enemy because it was such a horrible sight.

The door burst open, and all I could think was that it was the angel of death, since the m*ron was late, I

was going to file a complaint with the devil.

“Brandon Oh, my G*d,” said a familiar tone.

“What the hell,” I muttered to myself. Thalia walked in, I had figured she would call Nestor her new best

friend and leave my cranky ar*e to fester, but that was not the case; she had gone outside to get some

fresh air, just as she earlier stated.

“Brandon, are you okay?” I could see her getting up on the bed and holding my head. I could see her

looking all over my pathetic body, terrified, as she processed the reality that I had popped on myself.

That was a scene no man wanted his favorite girl to see. In embarrassment, tears began to flow down

my cheeks.

“Brandon, no, no please do not cry,” she murmured as she wiped my tears away. “Hold on please, don’t

give up on me, it’ll be alright,” she said.

I gazed at her when I opened my eyes. The woman was insane; there was cr*p all over the body, yet

she was telling me not to die. At the very least, she should have called Nestor to get the filthy off of me

because If I was to die I would have died an hour ago.

“Thalia?” with difficulty I called her.

“Yes, oh my G*d, you can talk.”

Without glancing at her, I said, “Call Nestor.”

“Nestor, oh my goodness, oh my goodness, no, no, I can do this,” she said. “You’re just going through a

phase, It will soon pass.”

“I can’t feel my f**king body, all the way down to my toes,” I yelled at her, enraged.

“Nestor was not a doctor the last time I checked, so if you need a doctor, give me their number,” she

replied.

Why was she suddenly a hothead? I took a deep breath in. My naive Thalia was very much missed.

She stood up and remarked, “Ooh, you need a bath; sure, your body has a fever.”

“Thalia,” I yelled at her, “Thalia, call Nestor, you won’t manage, you’re pregnant!”

When I was clean, she always refused to bathe me, and there was no way I was going to let her bathe

me while I was in the sh*t. I screamed, “Thalia, don’t touch me! Please don’t touch me, I’m too heavy

for you.” But she disregarded me and continued stripping me naked.

“I don’t need to take you to the bathroom to bathe you,” she remarked as she continued to undress me.

More tears streamed down my cheeks, I merely closed my eyes in shame.

“It’s going to be fine, Brandon,” she assured him.

“Shut up, nothing is going to be fine, and this is humiliating!” I cried out

“Not to me; if I were in your shoes, I’m sure you’d clean me up, wouldn’t you?”

“No, I’d hire Maggie or a random person off the street,” I tried to discourage her with my response, but

all she did was laugh. It irritated me that she wasn’t puking despite her pregnant condition because I

felt like puking myself.

With a smile, she responded, “Yes, Brandon would hire Maggie.”

“Thalia, you’re humiliating me; I don’t want to live like this, I’m tired Thalia, I just want it all to stop” I

exclaimed.

She came to a halt and placed her palm over my mouth. “Please, please, please, don’t say that.”

“Please accept my apologies; I didn’t mean to push you,” I added.

She answered, “I know, it was an accident, it was my fault, I was out of line attempting to put phony

food in your mouth.”

“Stop coming up with ridiculous justifications for me!” I yelled at her, but she remained silent. However,

she did not answer. Instead, she kept wiping my filthy a*s until I was clean, and continued making as

many trips to the restroom as she could.

While I was naked in the bedroom, she removed all of the sheets and dumped them in the bin.

She then took a portable bed, put it up, and placed it beside my bed. She climbed into bed with me and

began slowly bathing me without establishing eye contact or responding to my cries.

She changed me into a diaper once she was finished, ignoring all my protest. I assumed Nestor had

thrown them away when I told him to, but that was not the case. After she was done, She pushed me

onto the makeshift bed and covered me with some clean sheets.

She was so exhausted, and I could tell by her breathing. She climbed into bed with me after putting the

old bed away. “You talk too much,” she said quietly in my ear as I lay shamefully in an adult diaper.